Blood letting
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Peter had never liked Doctors, but this guy had to be the worst. For one, he'd kidnapped Spider-Man. Triple prompt fill for torture, blood draining, and a late Tony rescue.


Peter had never liked Doctors, but this guy had to be the worst. For one, he'd kidnapped Spider-Man.

Peter had been doing his patrol, when someone had called for him.

"Spider-Man! I could use some help."

He looked like a regular dude, and Peter had been bored all night so, he didn't suspect anything could be wrong, until he swung down and followed the guy down into an alley.

"So, where were these guys that tried to mug you? I don't see anyone around here."

In hindsight, it may have been a little stupid to follow some stranger into an alley, but that wasn't really the issue. The issue was that the guy had pressed a taser to Peters side, before he'd even had time to turn around.

Peters body arched, and shook as the electricity traveled through him, before it receded, and Peter fell to the ground.

His vision blurred, and a cry of pain escaped him, as the taser was pressed to his side, once again. The stranger loomed over him, with a smile.

"Sorry for this part. But I need you weak, and docile. Don't worry, it'll be over soon."

The taser was pressed to Peters side again, before he'd even had the chance to catch his breath. He could feel his teeth clench, as his back arched off the ground, a small moan of pain coming from him as the current shook his lean frame.

When it finally stopped, all he could do was suck in painful, heaving, breaths, and whimper. His whole body was trembling, and his muscles felt weak and clumsy; making it very easy, for the stranger to grip the back of his collar, and drag him across the alley.

Peter tried his best to get moving, to get up and run, or fight the man off, but his body wasn't responding like it should. Soon enough, they arrived to a curb, where the stranger dropped him, unceremoniously to the ground.

Peter watched, vision blurring, as the door was swung open, and he knew he had to escape before he was put in it, and taken away.

If only he could move! Peter did all he could to try and get off the ground before it was too late, but his limbs were so heavy, muscles trembling, as he crawled just a few steps away.

Then those hands were on him again, and he was being hauled up into the van, as the strangers voice came threateningly, close to his ear.

"Try anything, and I will use that taser again. Just stay quiet, we'll be there soon enough."

Peter was finding it hard to think, while in pain, and being threatened. All that he could think of, was calling Tony, when he was put in the van. But he never saw the inside of it. Instead, he felt the stranger slam him against the side of the van, and everything went black.

….

Peter was cold. He didn't like cold, it put a damper on his powers, and made him slower than usual.

But it wasn't just cold, there was also pain. Peter didn't like pain either.

"Hello Mr Spider. Awake are we?"

Peter let out a moan of pain, as he woke, pulling his eyes open to see what the hell was going on.

The stranger was there, in front of him, looking more sinister than he had when he'd been asking for help. Peter blinked to clear his vision, letting out an involuntary whimper of pain, as something pulled at his wrists.

"I've got you in a nice little web of my own." Peter looked up, as the man gestured, and realised why his arms hurt so much.

He was strung up, wrists in heavy metal cuffs, hanging from the ceiling. HIs shoulders held the weight of him as he hung there, his joints aching at the stress. His toes only just brushed the floor, if he stretched them; and he realised, with a gasp, that he no longer had his mask on.

The man laughed. "Don't lose your cool, Spider-Man. I don't care about your identity; although you are younger than I thought you'd be."

Peter was getting scared. With his mask off, he couldn't talk to Karen, or call for help, and now this guy had seen his face. He quickly looked around the room, trying to find a way out; but he didn't even know where he was.

His head hurt, from the hit that he'd taken, and he could feel blood slowly drying on the back of his neck, where it had dripped.

The man sighed, as he stood over a table across the room. "I need you to know that I'm not some psychopath; I'm not hurting you because I want to, or for fun. I'm doing this to help people."

He turned to look at Peter, his face passive. "You have powers, and you have a responsibility to use them for good."

Peter struggled in his bonds, kicking the air as he tried to pull his wrists from the cuffs above him, as he shot back. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Saving people in the streets? Cops can do that; you can do more." He was getting angry now, watching Peter pull at the metal around his wrists, and walked towards him with a frown. "You have the ability to heal quicker, and better, than anyone else. Do you have any idea how many people that could help? You should have done the right thing, and submitted yourself to science."

Peter frowned. He wasn't an idiot, he knew exactly what his powers could do for others. He'd been working with Bruce and Tony, to try and use them to develop new medicines and healing therapies. "Believe it or not, I love science and I actually have been-uhg!"

His words were cut off with a sharp back hand to the face, snapping his head to the side, with a grunt of pain.

Peter hissed at the sting, and looked back at the man in front of him. He was going back to his tools, picking up tubes and what looked to be a needle.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. But with your speed healing abilities, this blood is worth millions. At least take comfort in the fact that you'll still be helping people, even when you're dead."

He came towards Peter, as the teenager struggled to get away. The angle he was hanging from, made it difficult to get enough force to break his bonds, and he tried to stall for time so he could figure out how to do it.

"I thought it was about science and saving people. Why do you care how much its worth?"

The Doctor, he had to be one, scowled as he gripped Peters jaw with one hand, turning his head to the side. "I am doing this to help people. But the money matters, because I need funding for my research. I am doing this for them. The good of the many outweigh the good of the few."

"Don't pretend to be the good guy in this. You're hurting a child- ah! Stop!"

Pain sliced through his skin, as a needle was pressed into his neck, into his vein, and taped there.

Peters chin was released, and he saw the man smile. "Struggling will make you bleed faster. So, by all means, go ahead and writhe."

It was starting to look bad for our hero, and he whimpered as he tried to figure out how to escape or get help.

"You don't have to do this. I can still help people; you can have some blood, just-"

The man shook his head from where he was fiddling with a machine attached the the tube in Peters artery.

"It won't take long. Try not to move your head, or you could rip your neck." He flipped a switch, and the machine began to hum, as bright red traveled through the tube to the unit, sucking Peters blood right out of his veins.

Peters breaths started coming faster. He was going to be drained, and he didn't know how he was going to stop it. The teenager kicked, yanking at the chains above him, as he started yelling. They were in a cold, concrete room, with hooks on the ceilings, where his chains were attached to. It was something like a boxing room, or meat locker maybe? It was hard to see, but there had to be people nearby. If he could just yell loud enough.

"Hey, you can't do this! Don't do this! Someone help me!"

The Doctor scowled again, looking furious, as he surged forward and thrust his stun gun at Peters chest. The electrical current burned through his suit, and his jaw clenched tight as his muscles tightened and spasmed.

He could hear the chains jingle, as his whole body shook. It was held against him longer than it had been before, and when it finally stopped, he slumped, weak and unable to do anything but pant.

"Don't fight this. Be a good little spider, and stay quiet. For the good of the many, remember?"

Peter's vision was badly blurred, as he blinked tiredly at his feet. His whole body hurt, and he felt weak and dazed. He didn't know what he was going to do.

Peter dragged in one more heaving breath, before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he passed out.

…...

He didn't know how long had passed when he woke, but he felt much worse than he had before, and a whole lot weaker. It was hard to even focus his eyes on the other end of the room.

His mind was muddled, but in his own slow way, Peter was coming to the conclusion that he hadn't just been kidnapped. He was officially being tortured.

Which, was worse in any way you put it. Being stolen from the streets was one thing, but the repetitive electrical shocks, and the horrifying blood drain put him in an entirely new situation.

For one thing, he'd have to explain it to Aunt May, and Ned. And he could already imagine the looks on their faces, the way that May would cry, and both she and Ned would go into protective overdrive.

They already freaked out with any minor injury he came home with, he didn't want to have to tell them about this.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. As soon as Tony knew The Doctor had hurt him, had tortured him, he knew that Tony would kill him. Which the man deserved but… he didn't want Tony to do that, to become that.

But he was scared, and in pain, and he needed help.

He just needed a plan.

He couldn't do anything with The Doctor still there; if he tried to break his bonds, he'd be shocked again. But it might be his only option.

Peter tried to think, but his head was still fuzzy from the repeated shocks, and he was beginning to feel the effects of the blood loss.

He felt awful and shaky, and his head was pounding as his arms and wrists ached from the weight of holding himself up. The position wasn't easy on his chest either, and he knew his breathing was more laboured than it should have been.

The Doctor was fiddling with something by the machine, so maybe if Peter could come up with a plan, a quiet plan, he could carry it out if he were quick enough. He'd have a good few seconds before the guy could make it over to him, even longer if he had to get the stun gun in his hands first.

A few seconds didn't sound like much, but Peter knew he could get a lot done in a few seconds.

Watching The Doctor for any sign he was about to turn around, Peter carefully pulled at the chains, trying to make them jingle as little as possible. Peter was strong but they were pretty decently thick, and at the angle he was on, with all his weight hanging from the cuffs, it would be difficult to break them. He needed to get the weight off, and maybe if he could break the cuffs, he could at least detach the chains from the ceiling.

Peter looked up at the ceiling, clenching his teeth when a wave of nausea hit him. He felt awful, but there was no time to think about it. He took careful, breaths and kept planning.

The Doctor shuffled, turning slightly to watch Peter out of the corner of his eye, before going back to his work.

Peter swallowed another wave of nausea, and ignored the way he was shivering, as he worked out the details of his plan in his head.

Usually, his strength worked just fine, but he was already feeling weak from the amount of blood he was losing. He'd have to work fast.

Peter took a breath, and was about to start, when The Doctor turned around. "How is my patient feeling? Are you lightheaded yet?"

His hand came forward, placing the back of his knuckles gently across Peters cheek, even as the teenager tried to twist away from him. "Hmm. Cold, pale skin; Hypovolemic shock is setting in. And oh, you're shaking."

Peter tried to pull away, only making the needle in his neck move, sending a spike of pain through him. But the man was right; he was weaker, and he couldn't think straight, it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He didn't have much time.

His voice was weak, and he felt out of breath. "I thought...you said you weren't doing this...for the enjoyment."

The Doctors expression went hard, and cold as stone. Peter was afraid he might shock him again, and shuddered at the thought as the man spoke.

"I'm not. Are you scared?" His eyes held something in them as he asked that. Something like a little humanity, that Peter thought he could prey on.

He was honest, lip shaking a little. "Yes."

The Doctor didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at Peter, as the teenager blinked slower and slower, fighting against the fatigue.

When the man finally spoke, his voice was softer. "This will be easier for you if you let yourself pass out. Just fall asleep, and it'll be over."

Peter felt tears prick his eyes, too tired to push his emotions back. Because it was becoming clearer to him now, that he may die in a cold, concrete room, without anyone knowing where he was.

A tear fell down his cheek, and he didn't even have the luxury of being able to wipe it away. The Doctor stared at it, watching it trail down Peters cold skin.

Because maybe, it could change the man's mind. He seemed to be loosening his hard, uncaring facade. Like, perhaps he wasn't awful at all and only believed he had to be in order to do the right thing. Maybe he was doing his best to be the person that he needed to be to complete his mission.

Peter's voice cracked as he spoke, breaths heaving between his words. "Please don't do this. I don't want to die."

"You have to."

"No!"

The man shook his head, frowning as he tried to explain. "I have to! I can't let anyone die from diseases and illnesses and injuries that you can help fix! I have to help them! Can't you see I'm doing you a favor? I'm doing you a kindness!"

Peter let out a sob, flinching away, as much as he could, in fear of being tased again. "How? You're hurting me, you're going to kill me!"

The man poked a finger into Peter's chest, hard enough for the teenager to let out another whimper, as he started to raise his voice, getting angry.

"I could have kept you, harvested you, to take as much blood as I wanted, for as long as I wanted! I could have cut you into pieces while you screamed!"

He seemed desperate for Peter to understand. "This way, it'll be over for you soon. You'll fall asleep, and you won't wake up. I would sedate you if I had anything strong enough that wouldn't pollute your blood. But I need it all, and when your heart gives out, you won't be in pain anymore. I need every part of you, Spider-Man. But I'm leaving the rest to last, so you don't have to feel it. You won't feel it when I cut into you, to find every part of your DNA, every piece of your power. I'm going to do a lot of good with it, but for that you have to die."

Peter sobbed, chest heaving, as he realised what was going to happen. He had never been more terrified in his life, and no one even knew he was in trouble. No one was coming to get him.

Peter tried again. "Please don't do this."

The Doctor scowled, and pulled the stun gun back towards Peter, holding it close to Peters cheek and letting the electricity flicker threateningly close to his skin. His voice was a whisper in Peters ear, as the teenager froze.

"Be quiet."

He slowly placed two fingers at Peters throat before he turned around again, putting the stun gun away. "Your pulse is already weakening. You'll pass out soon. Let it happen; it'll be easier."

Peter may have been terrified, and he may have been running low on blood, but there was no fucking way he was going gentle into that good night. He sucked in a breath and sniffed his tears away. Fuck this guy.

He knew he had to work quickly, as he pulled himself up, with one arm, using his other hand to grip the chains above him, so that he would have enough of them slack, to aim his web shooter at The Doctor.

The chains made a lot of noise, and as soon as he'd heard it, The Doctor had turned around, with the stun gun, again. Thankfully, Peter was still a good shot, despite his blurry vision, and his web hit the man in the chest, exploding past his sides to stick him to the wall behind him.

He immediately tried to struggle, but he would be stuck there for a while. Peter's arms shook from the effort, and he let out a groan of pain at each movement, as he gripped the chains above him and used them to climb. He lifted his feet above his head, pulling himself up, and doing his best to ignore the pain in every cell.

Once his feet were on the chain, it was easier; it was like climbing on a web...that you were chained to. The needle in his neck, was being pulled with his movements, and he lifted a trembling hand to pull it out, whimpering as he did so. Blood spewed from the tube, and seeped from the puncture mark on his neck, dripping down his skin, but he didn't have time to cover it.

Peter moved as fast as he could, feeling wobbly and heavy, but quickly climbed up enough to rip the cuffs from the chains. One cuff came off his wrist, as he snapped it, but the other wouldn't come off and he broke the chain instead, leaving the metal circlet around his wrist. He was free, now he just had to get out.

The Doctor swore and screamed at him, continuing his nonsense ramble about Peter's responsibility to humanity, but the teenager ignored it, as he crawled across the ceiling for a window high on one of the walls. He was about to go through it, when he hesitated, turning back to fire a web at one of the tables of equipment, where the Doctor had thrown his mask.

Mask retrieved, he made his way out into the cold air.

It was dark, as he crawled over the wall, and down into the street, and he didn't know how long he had been held captive for. He didn't even know where he was.

He was shaking so badly, he couldn't seem to find the eyes on his mask, but slipped it on once he'd worked out which way it went.

"Hello Peter. My sensors indicate you're in bad shape. Do you need help?"

Peter was glad to hear his friend, and glad that Karen knew exactly what he needed without him needing to talk too much. He was so tired, and so cold, that even talking was hard. He took a stumbling step forward, wrapping his arms around himself as he answered with a whimper.

"Yes. C-Call Mr Stark."

"Initiating call. Would you like the heater on? You're body temperature is too low."

Peter took another step, trying to keep his eyes open. "Yes, please Karen."

The suit whirred a little, as the heater turned on, and Peter listened to Tony's ring tone as he waited for him to answer.

 _Click._ "Peter? It's two in the morning, you're supposed to be at home. Why does your tracker say otherwise?"

The teenager was so glad to hear his voice, he stumbled, barely managing to catch himself before he fell. "Mr Stark? I-"

"Why aren't you in bed? You know you aren't supposed to stay out past one at the latest, and that's being generous. Didn't you finish your patrols?"

He was talking too fast for Peter to keep up with; his eyes kept closing and he didn't think he could stay on his feet for much longer.

"I was doing them, but a guy came and-"

Tony sounded irritated, and impatient, cutting Peter off before he could finish his sentence.

"You can give me your mission report later, Spider-Man. Go home."

And then he hung up.

Peter felt his heart sink, as he tripped over his own feet, tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain as he called out for the one person that could help him.

"No, no, no. Mr Stark?"

Karen sounded apologetic. "The call has ended."

Peter curled up on the damp concrete, sobbing as he tried to pull in a decent breath. He felt so alone, and so scared. The Doctor may have been insane but he was right; Peter was going into hypovolemic shock. If he fell asleep, he would die.

The puncture from the needle was still seeping blood, and Peter could barely feel his fingers anymore, as he lifted one hand to press against the wound.

"Call him again."

The ring tone came once more, as Karen compiled, and Peter fought to even out his breathing, as his teeth clattered together. He stared up at the dark sky, as he listened to Tony pick up.

"Peter, I told you to-" This time Peter interrupted, his sobs halting Tony's words in an instant.

"I need help. I don't know where I am, and I can't move. Please, Mr Stark. I'm really scared. I can't do it on my own."

Tony was quiet for a moment, as he tried to take in what was happening. When his voice returned, he sounded panicked and rushed.

"I'm going to find you, I have your tracker location. I'm going to come get you Peter, I promise. Tell me what happened."

Peter felt faint with relief. Tony was coming, he'd be okay.

His eyes closed as he curled into a ball on the concrete, feeling numb. "He had a stun gun. It burned and he just kept using it, then he knocked me out and took me here. But I don't know where I am."

It was loud on Tony's end of the phone. Shuffling, and shouts to Friday; before a car engine started up.

Peter latched onto Tony's voice to try and keep himself in one place, to get the spinning to stop. He was so dizzy.

"Are you hurt? What did he do to you?"

Peters voice was almost gone. "I'm so tired."

Tony wasn't so loud in his ear anymore. "Peter! No, stay awake!"

Peters eyes shut, his words coming as a whisper. "It's cold here, Mr Stark."

"No, Peter! Stay with me, kid. I'm coming. Just stay awake! Bruce and I are almost there."

He could barely hear his own voice, it was so weak. "I don't want to die."

"You won't! I won't let you! I'm almost there, just a few more minutes. Do you hear me? Peter?!"

Peter was too tired to respond. His mind swirled like water down a drain, and he sank into nothingness.

…..

Tony drove as fast as he could, having woken up Bruce to go with him on their rescue mission.

Bruce was going through the information being sent from the spider suit, mumbling things to himself as he did, which only freaked out Tony more.

"He's not answering!"

"Peter has lost consciousness, and his heart rate is dropping significantly." Fridays voice didn't help matters.

Bruce shook his head to himself, voice worried. "Drive faster."

….

Tony swerved the car to a stop, not bothering to turn off the engine, because Peter was laying in a crumpled heap on the ground. And he wasn't moving.

Tony practically fell out of the vehicle, in his haste to get to his kid, and he sprinted over before dropping to his knees beside him.

The cars headlights shone over the two, and its harsh color made everything seem much worse.

Tony could see the burns over Peters chest, where an electric current had been held too long, and too many times. And then there was the blood dripping down his collar.

Tony gently pulled the teenagers mask off, as Bruce came over from the car, holding a medic kit.

Peters eyes were closed, his face paler than he'd ever seen it, and his lips had a slight blue hue to them.

Tony wanted to bundle him up, and get him warm, feeling the coolness of his skin, but he was quickly pushed away by Bruce.

"He's going into Hypovolemic shock. But I don't know why. There's not enough blood here, to warrant a reaction like this. Unless it's internal."

Tony watched his hands fly over Peter, carefully placing an oxygen mask over his face, and wrap a blanket over his small frame.

"Karen didn't say anything about internal bleeding. It must not have happened here."

Bruce muttered to himself. "But where's the wound? He's been hit on the head, but that's already clotted."

He barely looked up at Tony. "Help me get this off him." He was already peeling the suit away from Peters throat, but paused when he found it.

It didn't take long to find the source of the problem. The puncture was covered in blood, smothering Peters neck in it, making it seem scarier than it was. Tony felt sick, as Bruce lent over it to try and get a look at what it was.

"Dammit."

Tony watched as Bruce pressed gauze to the bloody mess, and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. "Whoever did this to him can't be far. Peter wouldn't have been able to make it far in this condition. Call the police to find them."

Tony nodded, and did as he was told, as Bruce called back up of his own.

The police came quickly, and raided the building with Peters bloody handprint on the side, and Tony had to stand back as Bruce's medical team came too.

There was so much going on, that Tony found himself blocking most of it out; only focusing on small details.

Like the way Peter didn't move when he was turned onto his back and lifted onto a backboard. The panic in Bruce's voice when he declared Peter was going into cardiac arrest. The burns on Peters chest, when his suit was pulled away, and the odd metal cuff still attached to his wrist.

Tony barely remembered to breathe, as Bruce shouted over the whine of the defibrillator, as Happy yelled behind him, setting up a perimeter so that even the police couldn't get close enough to see Spider-man's unmasked face.

Tony felt his own heart pounding painfully in his chest, each time Peters torso arched in the air, before slamming back down to the concrete. Lifeless.

It took too long to get him back, to pull him back from death.

Tony's head spun, and he almost passed out with relief when Peters heart started again; however weak it was.

He watched, almost shell shocked, as Peter was taken away, into a waiting ambulance; to be transferred back to the compound. But he didn't move until Happy led him to the, still idling, car, and drove him home.

He may have owned the building, and paid everyone in it, but Happy still wouldn't let him in while they were treating Peter. "You can't help him right now. Just stay here, I'm going to call his aunt."

Tony's hands shook, as he waited in the same chair, for hours, until Bruce finally came back out.

He looked tired, and briefly stopped to talk to one of the police officers that had been part of the raid, before coming to sit next to Tony.

"He's alive. It was touch and go for a long while. He lost over forty percent of his blood volume, and his heart couldn't take it. But he's doing better now. The lead officer from the raid said they'd found the guy inside the building where we found Peter. He'd drained him, he was going to use it for his research and experiments. We got the cuff off too. He chained Peter to the ceiling."

Tony clenched his fingers into fists, but Bruce stopped him before he could get out a single threat. "He's dead Tony. They tried to arrest him, and he resisted. He was shot and died on the scene. Its over."

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling more worn out than ever before. "Will Peter be okay? Will there be…" He choked up on the words, forcing them out. "Will there be scars?"

Bruce sighed. "If he heals fast enough, no. We're giving him a blood transfusion now, and replacing everything he's lost. I've already done some scans, and despite everything that he's been through, it looks like there isn't any lasting damage. He was extremely lucky."

Tony scoffed, burying his head in his hands. "Lucky. He called me, and I hung up on him. He almost died, and I wasn't there for him."

Bruce's arm wound its way around Tony's shoulders, pulling him to his chest. "You didn't know."

Tony let out a sob, hating the way it forced its way up his throat. "He died."

Bruce held his friend as he dissolved into tears and panicked breaths; knowing that, for now, there was nothing he could do to take the pain away.

…

Tony wasn't one for physical affection, but he couldn't help but take Bruce's hand, as they walked into Peter's room. He found it hard to breathe again, as he saw the kid laying there.

He looked about as pale as he had on the street, but his lips no longer had the blue tint, and for that Tony was grateful. There were tubes everywhere, and a pristine bandage taped over Peters neck, where the puncture had been, but he was no longer covered in blood.

Peters chest rose and fell, as he breathed on his own, with nothing but an oxygen mask for help, which was good; he'd been intubated far too many times before. But his blanket was only pulled up to his waist, to allow the leads and monitors on his chest to lay undisturbed; and it meant that Tony could see all the places Peter had been burnt with that stun gun.

How could someone do that to a kid? To someone as bright, and kind, and good, as Peter.

Tony let go of Bruce's hand, to make his way to Peters bed. His breath hitched, as he brushed Peters hair gently back.

"Oh, Spider-Baby, I'm so sorry."

A scream interrupted his thoughts, and broke his heart instead. "Where is he?! Where's my baby?"

It was May, and she was looking for Peter.

Bruce gave Tony a look; one that had something like regret in it, as Tony went out to find her.

She was there, tears already staining her face, as she rushed forward and gripped the front of Tony's shirt. "Where is he? What did that bastard do to my little boy? Happy said...he said he was...oh god."

She couldn't say the words. Neither could he. She took a breath, and looked defiant, as if challenging anyone to oppose her. "I need to see him."

Tony looked to Bruce, who nodded, before taking Mays hand and leading her to Peter's room.

They barely managed it through the doorway,seeing Peter for only a second, before Mays legs gave out, and she fell to the floor, howling. Tony could do nothing but follow her to the ground, and hold her as she cried.

…...

After two days, Peter was finally strong enough to wake up. It happened slowly, his eyes glassy as they took in the dimmed room, and the figure above him.

"Peter? Can you hear me?"

"M-Mr Stark?"

Tony started crying again, as soon as he heard the words, and wiped at his face as Peter started to do the same.

He wasn't as pale as it had been, but it crumpled all the same, as he cried; hands finding Tony and holding on tight.

"He said he was going to kill me, and then cut me up. I couldn't get away from him. I thought I was going to die."

Tony didn't want to hurt him, and moved as carefully as he could, as he slid his hands under Peter and pulled him to his chest.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner, and I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you right away. I should have been there."

Peter squeezed back, as tight as he could. "You did come. You saved me. Thank you."

Tony would never forgive himself for what he did, but he knew that he would never let it happen again. "I promise, I'll always come when you need me Peter. Always."


End file.
